


to wash away the blood

by coricomile



Series: The Dislocated Room - Winterhawk Week 2015 [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Winterhawk Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 07:20:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4868081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coricomile/pseuds/coricomile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint is bleeding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to wash away the blood

**Author's Note:**

> Day Five: Fact

Clint's bleeding. 

Blood soaks through his vest, spilling out over onto his bare arms and onto the pavement. Bucky drops down next to him, searching for the wound. He'd heard the shot coming, but he'd been too focused on his own target to see where Clint was. And then there'd been the shout, the sound of a sick sound of a body hitting the ground. 

"Captain, Hawkeye's down," Bucky says into the comm, hands still scrabbling over Clint's chest. He rips open Clint's vest, kevlar tearing too easily between Bucky's hands. Of all of them, he's the least protected, the easiest to damage. He needs a fucking bubble, not a five by five piece of fabric. 

The wound is through his shoulder, blacking around the edges and pushing blood out in sickening waves. Bucky presses his hand against it and pushes down. Blood seeps through his fingers, sticking in the plates of his hand. He'll be cleaning it out for days. He'll be happy to do it as long as Clint opens his fucking eyes. 

"If you wanted me to get naked, you just had to say." Clint chokes on the end of the sentence, breath hitching in as Bucky presses down harder. "Aw, hell. Hurts like a bitch."

"You couldn't wear a full fucking suit, could you?" Bucky listens for the sound of help coming, for anything other than the sounds of the battle still going on around them. His gun is lying next to him, useless. If someone takes a shot, he'll be down too. 

"Can't weigh my arms down," Clint says slowly. He lifts his head, turning it until he spots his bow. Bucky snatches it up and shoves it into Clint's left hand. His fingers close around it loosely. He won't be able to shoot, but Bucky knows about getting comfort from your weapon. 

"I'll weigh your fucking arms down," Bucky snaps. He calls out to Steve on the comms again, relief settling in his chest when Steve tells him help is on the way. "You fucking idiot, I swear to god if you bleed out on me, I'm going to trash your apartment and run your name through the mud." Clint laughs, wincing as it jostles his shoulder. He's starting to go pale. The bullet went through and through. Shrapnel would have been better. Something to plug the hole. 

"Apartment's already a... a wreck and my name's not-" Clint's head rolls to the side, his fingers twitching against his bow. He smiles a little. Endorphins kicking in. Shock, maybe. Bucky presses down harder and tries not to panic. "You swear more when you're worried."

"Then stop making me fucking worry." Bucky thumps his forehead down against Clint's. He keeps expecting a bullet of his own, right between his shoulder blades, but Steve's got their location and is keeping them safe. He still forgets that they're a team sometimes. "You fucking asshole."

"You love it," Clint says. His eyes close, just for a moment, and Bucky pushes down harder on the wound. Clint jerks under him, hissing in pain, but his eyes snap open again. "I'll be… fine. I'm always fine. Not gonna go… not gonna go like this."

"Mighty fucking Hawkeye?" Bucky asks. The corner of Clint's mouth twitches. His lips are slowly going blue. If help doesn't come soon, he's going to be fucked. The bullet hit an artery. There's too much blood for there to be any other explanation. 

"Mighty fucking Hawkeye," Clint agrees softly. 

"Copter coming your way," Steve pants over the comm. Clint sags a little, some of the tension in his face fading away. "I need you to stay on the field while Hawkeye goes to medical."

"Don't ask me to do that-"

"We're already one man down," Steve says. There's the sound of his shield hitting flesh, a quick breath as Steve runs. "We can't afford two. I'm sorry."

"Stay," Clint says. The sound of helicopter blades is coming closer, help finally on its way. Clint taps him on the side with his bow, eyes still wide open. "I'll… sleep a lot. Bitch. You can catch up… after."

Bucky helps Clint into the helicopter, smearing blood across the clinically clean seats and stretcher. Clint's still clutching his bow, even as a medic tries to take it away from him. He gives Bucky one last weak smile and then is gone. 

Bucky downs six enemy soldiers and nearly beheads a seventh. The battle is won, but Bucky's still got anger boiling under his skin. Natasha puts a hand on his shoulder while they wait for the pickup crew, her lips pressed together and eyes hard. 

"I will find the one who shot him," she says. Her voice is like steel for all that she's calm. "We will deal with them together."

Steve lets him duck out of debriefing. He looks tired, already healing bruises lining his cheek and jaw. He'll be back to normal the next time Bucky sees him, and for a moment Bucky resents it. He's got the same advanced healing, the same advanced strength. And the both of them let Clint run around beside them like he's anything but human. 

Bucky slips into Clint's room quietly. Clint's stuck to the bed with an IV, the blood bag hanging next to him vibrantly red against the white walls. He blinks open his eyes when Bucky sits in the chair next to the bed. They're unfocused, hazy. The medics gave him the good drugs. 

"We win?" Clint asks, his words slurring together. He reaches out, hand fumbling across the edge of the mattress until it touches Bucky's. Bucky links their fingers together, metal and flesh both so much paler than they should be. Clint's blood is still stuck there, dried brown and flaking onto the sheets. 

"We won," Bucky says. Clint grins and closes his eyes. "You have to be more careful out there." Clint hums, already tuning him out. He won't remember anything Bucky says in the morning. Drugs always make him loopy, his system burning through them too fast. He's no super soldier, but his metabolism is a thing of legend. "I can't lose you, you idiot."

"Won't," Clint mumbles. He squeezes Bucky's hand weakly. The bandage over his shoulder has spots of blood creeping through. "I love you too, jackass."

Bucky grins and lets himself slump over the mattress. Clint passes out, his fingers going slack around Bucky's, and Bucky watches over him. Clint is bleeding, but he'll be okay.


End file.
